Stories I Never Finished

Beast (mashton)

The slam of a bloodied knife sliced through the quiet echoes of solitude drifting in Michael's home. Dull lighting danced across the glinting surfaces of his narrow kitchen, everything had its place from the spices neatly placed in a spinning spice stand to the long wooden chopping board settled on the island counter opposite his stove.

Though the outside world was quiet, an odd silence encompassing the Clifford residence bordering an ancient forest grown since before the roads had paved way for travel and humans had found its existence, Michael held no fear. For in the deepest darkest abysm of his body he knew whatever could roam beyond the trees and their horizon of fog in the midnight's gaze would have to fear him.

In the distance, Michael could hear his lounge room TV continue with its classic horror film as he finished slicing a chunk of raw red meat into thick pieces. For him it was nothing but another night in comfortable isolation from the world. He preferred his home far from the bustling life of a large city, it gave him peace he could not often find.

His surprise when his night ended with a bash of his head against his counter and the screams of intrusive police officers was unfathomable. There had been no warning, no risk, no hint of his life becoming endangered by the world beyond his reach. He hadn't been caught, so why had he been taken?

Someone had done something, someone knew something, but who?

*******************

"He's a right Hannibal Lector this man. The station's never seen anything like it..." The voice of detective Sebastian lingered in the logician's mind as he waited for his elevator to fall to the ground floor of the asylum.

"You should've been there when we found the bodies." Sebastian had said, shaking his head and tipping his hat from his locks of black hair. "Mangled to shit. Body parts missing. Was a real sight."

"Thank you, Detective." Ashton had focused his thoughts to avoid pulling a disgusted face at the senior officer seated in his office. "But I'd rather not have that pictured in my head, if you don't mind."

"Phew yeah." Sebastian had chuckled, giving a low whistle. "Can't blame ya'."

The elevator doors dinged, opening to the final floor, and Ashton Irwin's destination grew closer. Two men stood either side of him, draped in the darkest of tacky grey cotton, they were his escorts, an apparent protection required for taking him anywhere near the ground level.

"You sure you wanna go down there though?" Sebastian's face had coiled into a look of concern and distrust. He could only assume Ashton was a jagged reporter looking for another big criminal scoop to post. "They got some real crazies."

"I'm quite sure, Mr Harne. It's my job, after all."

Ashton had been confident then, and his confidence continued to remain firm in his stature as he walked with his head held high down the path less travelled; darkness filled the lower floor, dull lighting casting eerie shadows across the concrete walls as he strolled at a calm collected pace beneath the glowing lights embedded in the ceiling. Every so often, one would flicker, drowning the passageway in darkness for a fleeting moment.

This world of psychopaths, freaks and monsters hiding themselves beneath suits of human flesh was nothing new to him.

"You're a right Clarice right now, huh?" The one escort who had stepped out of the elevator with him commented with a short laugh.

Ashton ignored his ridiculous comment. "Just show me Mr Clifford's cell."

The escort's expression briefly encompassed a look of agitation, like one a school girl would give after the top bitch had shoved past her in the canteen line. Irritated, annoyed and mocking. Worn calloused hands fiddled with his keys, pulling them from around his neck by the dark blue cord he wore. His ID knocked against them with each step further he took in front of Ashton; a mug shot photo of him two years ago rested in plastic beside the name 'Carden James.'